Gray or Blue
by ByVirtue
Summary: When faced with yet another heinous crime, the team finds themselves pitched into what could be a catalyst for all things to come. Ziva has to come to terms with Ray's promise while Tony faces his fickle heart with love and lives to lose. Tiva. R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**G R A Y o r B L U E**

_[This is pretty much a Tiva fic, so fair warning. However, my desire is to keep the characters as true to themselves as possible. You will not find a suddenly emotional Ziva seeking healing from Tony in the form of sex. You will not find pure fluff. This takes place supposedly at the beginning of Season 9. I do not own NCIS or the characters, nor do I claim to do so.]_

There was a silence hanging in the air around the bullpen. It was awkward, but bearable. Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo was not as his desk. Perhaps that is what made it bearable. Four months had passed since Mike Franks was laid to rest. Since the port-to-port killer, Jonas Cobb, had been taken out.

Four months since Ray left. Ziva reached into the bottom draw of her desk, her hand pushing past papers and desk debris to the small box nestled there. She wasn't about to pull it into view. Tony was not there to see, but something in her absolutely did not want him to know about that box. That promise. Her fingers brushed over the smoothness of the cube, over the sharpness of the edges. Her eyes drifted to it before she returned its temporary home. A thought that had drifted into her mind, nagging each time she saw that box, reignited.

Empty.

Was Ziva looking to marry Ray? No, if she was honest. Not yet. He had kept things from her; and now he was off to parts unknown for who knew how long. Work, of course. She understood. Or, at the least, she told herself that. After four months of bare-bones communication, it was easier to hold on to doubt than hope. At the end of the day, Ray Cruz had left, and he had left her with an empty box.

"Good morning, Agent Da-Veed." Tony leaned over the partition of her desk space, aviators on, along with his usual smarmy smirk to match the tone in which he liked to pronounce her name.

"You are late, Tony." Ziva said, not choosing to look at him yet.

"What else is new?" McGee. He had finished doing..well, whatever he was doing, and set a stack of papers on Tony's desk, shooting his partner a teasing smile. Tony would not see the uncertainty in Tim's expression, but Ziva did. She knew. Timothy knew. Since the port-to-port killer's case was wrapped up, he'd grown..distant. At first, Ziva suspected it was simply malaise due to EJ being gone. But that thought had evolved. Tony was keeping things from them again. It made Ziva think of Jeanne. It made her think of Ray. And she didn't care for secrets.

"Ha ha," Tony replied in a flat retaliation as he wheeled over to his workspace, his smarm damaged. His desk phone rang as he settled in his chair; prompting Tony to immediately pick up the receiver, prop his feet up on his desk, and say in the smoothest voice he could muster, "Very Special Agent DiNozzo, NCIS~"

Ziva began to type at her computer, largely tuning out the phone conversation. She checked her e-mail. She smiled tensely at the screen and deleted one of Tony's messages to which he had 'replied to all'. Drove her crazy. Gibbs strolled through, coffee in hand. She smelled that dark, bitter roast before she saw or heard her boss. Still, she liked that smell. He passed without a word, ruffling the air around her in his gait. Life was never quiet here, but today..

Today would be peaceful.

Or that's what she thought, until Tony hung the phone up with a cordial and automated goodbye.

"So, Zee-vah," he said, exaggerating her name. "What was oh-so interesting in your desk when I arrived?"

_Dammit._

Ziva stiffened and gave Tony a cold stare, eyes narrowed dangerously. She could see McGee in her peripheral vision, working, but clearly listening in. "I do not know what you are talking about." She noticed that Gibbs had gotten up and gone, leaving only the lingering aroma of his brew behind.

"Oh, come on!" Tony chided with an insufferable grin. "You had your hand in that bottom drawer for minutes on end for no reason?" Had he been there longer than she realized?

"Did I get anything out?"

"No."

"Then most people would conclude that it was nothing."

"Am I most people?"

"Unfortunately, no you are not."

"Ouch."

Ziva smiled a fraction as Tony clutched his heart in mock-hurt. He was being unusually friendly..or annoying, rather, in light of the last few months.

He grinned and turned back to another phone call. Praise God. Ziva continued about her work. Uneventful. Then she got up to go to the ladies' room.

* * *

><p>"Psst. McCurious." Tony whispered, lobbing a ball of paper at McGee the moment Ziva was out of sight. It struck him on the temple, prompting a victory gesture from DiNozzo.<p>

"What?" McGee sighed, irritation layered under his tone.

"Did you see what Ziva had in her desk?"

"No, Tony. I didn't."

"Find out."

McGee looked to Tony, eyes wide not in surprise, but more in reaction as to how ridiculous it sounded. "I'm not going through Ziva's stuff."

"Come on!" Tony encouraged, "Aren't you curious, McScaredypants?"

"Of course. But I'm not ready to die, Tony."

Tony knew time was ticking. His blue eyes flickered back and forth. "Watch for her." The special agent practically vaulted over his desk to get to the one directly across from his. He flung the bottom drawer open with McGee's protests filtered out somewhere between his ears and his brain. Grinning like an idiot, he dug around for the object of his desire, triumphantly delivering an "Ah-ha!" as his fingers closed over the edge of the velvet box. Then Tony set his eyes on it and his heart seized.

"Tony?" He heard Tim say, who must have seen the sudden shift in his expression.

"It's a box."

"A..box, Tony?"

"A box. For an engagement ring."

Tim started at that, jumping from his desk to eye the container himself. "Did Ray..?" he began, but Tony cut him off.

"I dunno." His mind was racing. Humor was gone. There was no thrill of happiness or excitement in his heart. Just dread.

* * *

><p><em>You haven't written to me in a week<em>  
><em> I'm wondering why that is<em>  
><em> Are you too nervous to be lovers<em>  
><em> Friendship's ruined with just one kiss?<em>  
><em> I watched you very closely, I saw you look away<em>  
><em> Your eyes are either gray or blue<em>  
><em> I'm never close enough to say<em>

_[lyrics by Jaymay]  
><em>


	2. Chapter 2

_Suggested Soundtrack – Terrible Love (Alternate Version) by The National_

* * *

><p>There was a moment in which Ziva knew something was wrong. By the time she reached her desk, there was nothing out of the ordinary. No, Tony had high-tailed it back to his own space. The first thing that struck the Israeli as odd was the fact that Tony looked pale and..brooding. His cheer was curiously gone. And he was glancing at her, the kind of glance they he did when he didn't want her to know he was looking at her.<p>

But she always did.

Ziva didn't speak until she was back and settled at her desk. Until she noticed her bottom drawer was open a fraction. And her promise was jammed in haphazardly. Really? Had they gone through her things?

Ziva's heart fluttered.

"Did somethi-?"

"Gear up. We've got a dead Marine." Agent Gibbs blew through, cutting Ziva off with coffee in his hand. Cold by now, unless he reheated it. He chunked it into his waste bin. Definitely cold.

In unison, the trio of agents grabbed their backpacks. Tony was staring at her the whole time. She was confused, to be honest. Why was he looking at her like that? She shot him an annoyed, 'what are you doing?' kind of look when it got too uncomfortable.

"Does Ray like your hair straight or something?" Tony asked with a grunt as he situated his pack.

Smooth, Tony. Ziva frowned. "Why?"

"I like it curly. Yanno, loose."

Really? "..Noted."

"Discuss hairstyles on your own time, DiNozzo." Gibbs sighed, heading for the elevator, team in tow with a "Sorry boss" coming automatically from Tony. The elevator ride was awkward. Now McGee had joined in on the staring game. Except they were not looking at her face – they were looking at her left hand. Of course.

They'd found the box and assumed Ray had proposed. And why would she have an empty ring box unless she had said yes? Of course, of course. Anger stirred. They'd invaded her privacy (or at least, Tony had), and now they thought she'd keep something like being engaged from them? They were her family! More than family!

"What are you staring at?" asked Ziva sharply. And she intended it.

"Oh. Nothing." McGee stammered. His gaze snapped away, as if he'd just been lost in thought.

He hadn't been. Or maybe he was. Ziva gripped the strap of her backpack. Gibbs drove and she jumped at having shotgun. The last thing she wanted was to be jammed in the backseat with Tony or McGee.

It was a long car ride.

* * *

><p><em>Pamf. Pamf. <em>

The flash went off. Ziva moved her camera away from her sight for a moment and looked at the scene. They were in a small but comfortably furnished apartment. Cozy red couch. An easy chair. A stack of pseudo-intellectual books on a wood veneer coffee table. A few personal photos in silver frames, some nicknacks and flower arrangements. It was home, all things considered. Of course, the only thing Ziva was photographing were the tendrils of blood smeared and creeping across the plush wheat colored carpet, toward the bedroom. If it weren't for the blood, it would have been very hard to see that something was wrong.

There were no signs of struggle. The victim was in her bed, tucked in neat serenity. Ziva snapped away.

_Pamf. Pamf. Pamf._

"Staff Sergeant Mackenzie Caruthers." McGee murmured between flashes, legal documents in hand. Initial police write-up. "Thirty-four, lived alone. Neighbors noticed that her car was still in the garage even though she left with a man," He flipped a page. "Four days ago."

"And now she is back in her apartment. Dead." Ziva commented. _Pamf._

"Right."

Ziva frowned. "Tony, pull the covers back." She was done with photos. Tony did so, latex-gloved hands taking the thick floral comforter and folding it neatly to the side. They stared. Gibbs sighed, the sort of sigh that questioned humanity. Humanity and their astounding capacity for evil. "McGee. Go talk to the neighbors. Tony, Ziva. Evidence." The silver-haired Marine turned away and left.

Tony and Ziva stared.

The sheets under her body where stained with a great deal of blood. The cause of death was immediately evident – her wrists had been slit and she's bled out. It could have been a suicide – except for the fact that her negligee clad body was covered in grotesque bruises. Arms, legs, torso.

"Her bones are broken." Muttered Ziva.

"Reminds me of Misery." Tony added, looking to Ziva. She narrowed her eyes. Misery?

"One of your movies, yes?"

"Come on, Da-veed! Misery. Stephen King. Kathy Bates takes a sledgehammer to James Caan's ankles! One of the greatest thrillers of all time!"

"Recall that I do not own a television, Tony."

"I'll add it to our list for movie night." Tony winked at her, but it was still..off. "Anyway, she's got more than her ankles broken by the looks of it."

"Quite right, Anthony." Doctor Mallard entered the room, Jimmy Palmer in tow and giving an awkwardly friendly nod and smile to Ziva and Tony. "Just in my initial glance," Ducky gestured towards the body with a gloved hand, "I can see that this poor young women has had most – perhaps all – of the bones in her limbs broken." The older medical examiner ambled to the bedside. "Of course, we won't be sure until I perform the full autopsy."

He continued to talk (something about falling out of a tree as a child and breaking his arm), but Ziva's mind was elsewhere. Women seemed like they were always the target. The victim. Murder. Rape. She stared at Mackenzie's corpse sternly. "This is familiar."

"No kidding." Tony frowned. "Two weeks ago. It was almost the same."

"Just different enough.."

"..to where we didn't think about it until now."

Tony was staring again, but at her face. Concern masked it. Ziva looked to him and away from the body after a moment. "Another serial killer?" Her voice was small and softer than she would have liked. But all she could see in her mind was Mike Franks laid out on Ducky's table.

The monster that killed him. The monsters that hid in the shadows, the ones that clawed at her in her sleep and haunted her. Monsters that killed and stole and destroyed.

"Hey."

Ziva focused back on Tony. She must have given her thoughts away in her face.

"It'll be okay."

Ziva didn't say anything. She nodded just a fraction to satisfy Tony (or perhaps not) and waited for Ducky and Palmer to move the body. She watched them move her and her heart ached. She had been a beautiful woman – fit with cream colored skin and black, sweeping curls. She imagined green eyes, but they were probably brown. When they were gone, Tony started dusting from prints. Bag and tag.

A few agonizing moments passed.

"You went through my desk."

"..Yeah. Sorry."

"Satisfied?" Her tone was biting. She was still a little angry about that.

"No, not really, Ziva." Tony said with just as much fire. "You have something you wanna tell me?"

"No. I do not."

"Then a box for an engagement ring is nothing?" He was flustered. It wasn't just retaliatory anger. "What, did CIRay propose to you? Probie joining Palmer and gettin' married?"

"Are you jealous, Tony?" She spat back. He stared at her. For a long time, he just stared, those light eyes poorly hiding conflict. Ziva shut him up with that, but she still had her answer. He was jealous. But why? He had EJ.

Ziva realized that that thought came with a bitterness. Was she jealous, too?

"No. He did not propose."

And that's all she would say on the matter.

* * *

><p><em>I'm with another boy<em>  
><em> (He's asleep, I'm wide awake )<em>  
><em> And he tried to win my heart<em>  
><em> But it's taken<em>  
><em> (Time...)<em>

_[lyrics by Jaymay]  
><em>


	3. Chapter 3

_Suggested Soundtrack – No Harm by The Boxer Rebellion_

* * *

><p>The morgue was cold. Not an altogether unpleasant cold, but it was bracing nonetheless. Agent Gibbs embraced the temperature and joined Ducky by sheet after sheet of illuminated x-rays. Multiple shots of arms and legs. "Talk to me, Duck." Gibbs ordered, staring at the slick black pages illuminated by that ghostly white teal.<p>

"Staff Sergeant Caruthers had her bones systematically broken, Jethro." Ducky gestured towards the woman's body on the table from the wall of x-rays. "It would appear that she did not die as quickly as her killer would have liked – and thus, her wrists were sliced open to expedite her death."

The doctor wheeled around to the far side of the stainless steel slab and its current occupant. His gestured zeroed in on the lower portion of their victims torso as he spoke, "I also found significant bruising along her abdomen, hips, and thighs."

"She was sexually assaulted."

Ducky sighed in the manner that showed reluctance. "That is my assumption until we know for sure. The results from the rape kit have yet to come in." A frown creased his features. "Of course, you will be the first to know when they do."

"Thanks, Duck." Gibbs murmured grimly. He left as quickly as he came. Ducky stared down at the frozen face of his temporary companion. "I am so very sorry, my dear.." He muttered with the compassion and care he was known for. Known to the dead at least. He would like to think they were glad for it, even though they could never be.

* * *

><p><em>Two days and forensic results later<em>

* * *

><p>"Go."<p>

BAM. The door cracked open with a swift kick. DiNozzo compensated and threw his momentum into the dilapidated apartment. It was a terrible, dingy place. It reeked of stale alcohol and cigarette smoke. A perpetual haze made the peeling once white and yellow striped wallpaper even less appealing. Bricks showed through, the ceiling was stained with water marks. The floor, though once a nice wood, hadn't seen a proper cleaning in at least ten years. The barest of necessities furnished the sad excuse for a home. "Clear." Gibbs called from the kitchen.

"Clear." Ziva in the living room. Tony continued on, fingers laced firmly on his sidearm. Scanning, listening. Through the flaking paintjob on the bedroom door, over to the (surprisingly) neatly made bed..

Then Tony stopped. Paused.

"Boss!" He finally called. "We got something."

Ziva came in first, closely followed by their superior. The Israeli bent down and snatched a Polaroid from the floor in the bedroom. "Our dead Staff Sergeant."

"There's more." Gibbs added gruffly, holstering his weapon. The floor was littered with hundreds of photographs and print-outs on copy paper by a cheap printer with cheap ink. Notes and names were scrawled in the margins of nearly all of them – mostly just names.

"Boss, there must be a dozen women here." Tony crouched down and picked up a few snapshots. Most were innocuous – in the sense that the content was normal. "I think this Strahan guy's our man."

Ziva sighed and sifted through the closest pile of photos in a crouch. Women entering their apartments, their workplaces, through windows, in cars – professional photos printed off thrown in here and there. They all had haunting dark eyes and curly dark hair to match. Caruthers' official military photograph was in the mix, her name scrawled in nearly illegible writing on the back.

"He was stalking them."

"Looks like it, Ziver."

"These photos are dated." Ziva turned them over in her hand, pointing at the numbers with an extended index finger. Her eyes focused up at Gibbs. "This one –" She handed it to him. "Of our Staff Sergeant at her apartment is dated with the day she disappeared."

"Uh..Boss? We've got a problem." Tony was looking at the far wall. If Christopher Strahan slept on his side, he would be constantly seeing this particular wall. On it, at least thirty more photos were pinned or taped up, with ghosts of past photos hung behind, leaving lighter wall where they once were.

Ziva straightened her legs and stood and she saw herself. She saw herself getting into her cherry colored Mini Cooper, herself walking into the NCIS building while on her cellphone, she saw herself through the curtains of her apartment – and at Caruthers' apartment, camera raised as she photographed. Ziva swallowed hard and looked at the Polaroids intently.

"I think we know who Strahan's next target is." Ziva said with a knot in her throat, straining her tone. "Me."

It made her angry more than anything. Why had she not noticed? Her eyes darted to Gibbs, who pierced her soul with his blue eyes. He glanced at Tony, and she followed suit. DiNozzo just stared at her. His gaze didn't waver even when he spoke to Gibbs. "Boss, Ziva should stay with me until we catch this guy."

Ziva was about to object but Gibbs spoke first. "Is that so, DiNozzo? You sure about that?"

"I do not need protection, Tony." She meant it. Granted, it would be easier to be in comfort.

"He knows where you live."

"I can take care of myself."

"I know you can. But I think we should play it safe. This guy's no Cobb, but if these photos mean anything – " He gestured to floor, "He's killed more than Caruthers. At least two Marines." Heat entered his tone.

"Okay." Gibbs replied, approaching the wall. He took one of the photos of Ziva from the wall. "Ziva, you're staying with Tony."

"But-"

"You're staying with Tony."

"…"

Gibbs quirked a brow at Ziva, who looked at the floor. She didn't need a babysitter. And she didn't exactly want quality time with Tony.

"Come'on, Da-veed," Tony chided, trying to smile. "It's movie night anyway."

Ziva tilted her head and sighed. "Fine."

* * *

><p>"I got the popcorn all ready to go, Ziva." Tony chirped, trying a bit too hard to be happy. He must have been compensating for Ziva's lack of enthusiasm. Personally, it just served to irk her. She stepped into Tony's apartment, and it almost seemed like any other movie night. Except she packed a tooth brush.<p>

"You do not have to act cheerful on my account, Tony. We both know why I am here." Her irritation was subtle, but evident enough.

"Of course we know. To watch a movie with your amazingly handsome co-worker, the Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo." He gave a little bow from out of the kitchen. Ziva set her bag down, slipped out of her shoes and curled onto the end of Tony's plush couch.

"Tony.." She started.

"Don't worry, Ziva. We're not watching Misery." He smiled, but it was tinged with a sadness. A regret? Ziva suddenly wondered if they'd be watching movies at all. She knew they Tony would not be content to leave Ray's promise alone. And they were together, alone - no Gibbs to interrupt, no job to attend to. Just him. And just her.

Tony still brought the popcorn over, he in a green t-shirt and jeans. He plopped onto the couch near her, even though she was trying her darnedest to be cold. "You have not put a movie in." She said, a knowing in her voice.

Tony just shrugged and popped some of the popcorn into his mouth, speaking before he chewed. "I thought, yanno. We could talk a little."

"I do not feel like talking."

"It's okay, Ziva."

Ziva narrowed her eyes at Tony, who had chewed his popcorn and had his hands idle against the plastic of the bowl. "Okay to what?"

"Be afraid."

Protesting, Ziva moved her hands sharply for emphasis, "I'm not afr-"

"I saw your eyes Ziva."

She stilled, brow furrowed in frustration. "Am I so easy to read now?"

"No. Just as hard as you've always been."

Ziva shifted uncomfortably and was quiet. Tony continued.

"But you've been different. Since Cobb. Since Ray. Since Somalia."

"Why are you bringing up Somalia?" Ziva said harshly, suddenly defensive. Sure, she got emotional over Franks' death, and Cobb's terror, and maybe Ray had mellowed her out, but.. "It's been two years. I've put it behind me."

"No you haven't."

Her fists clenched, tight and tense. "Who are you to say what I have and have not gotten over, Tony?"

"Because I've seen your eyes."

"You already said that."

"They tell me a lot of things."

"And how much time have you spent looking at my eyes, hmm?"

"More than you think I do." His tone was gentle.

Ziva went quiet and she felt heat chasing over her cheeks and neck. She wasn't entirely sure whether it was anger or embarrassment or something else altogether. Either way, she didn't look at him when she spoke. "I..will admit that..my time in captivity had a profound effect on me." She held her chin up. Trying to be objective. But Somalia and Saleem were not very objective subjects for her.

"You went through more than anyone should ever have to, Ziva."

"And yet, I did." She said bitterly.

"I don't know the half of it, Ziva. And it's been two years."

"If I haven't told you, why would you think I would want to now?"

"Because you trust me."

Ziva quieted again, shifting on the couch. Her discomfort was painful for Tony to watch.

"Do you remember Petty Officer Burrows?"

She didn't answer.

"I remember how your eyes looked when she wouldn't tell you about her being raped."

"Tony, st-"

"And I remember what you said when McGee asked you what you would've done in her place."

"I believe I said I would torture and castrate my attacker!"

"It's how you said it."

"And how did I _say it_, Tony?"

He paused and looked her, his sharp hazel on her smoldering chocolate irises. "Without the fire. The fire I know you for. You said it like someone who went through it and didn't get the chance to give them the hell they deserved."

Ziva swallowed hard as tears brimmed on her bottom lashes. Her sternness wavered. "I would like to go take a shower."

"Was it Saleem?"

"No." Ziva began to get up, jaw granite as she struggled to keep herself together. "Do you have a shirt I could borrow? I did not bring pajamas."

"Who was it?" Tony got up and stopped her, hands gripping her forearms to hold her in front of him. He saw her eyes and he knew. Ziva shut her eyes, a single tear gracing over her cheek and down to her chin. "Let go of me, Tony."

"Ziva. Who?"

"His men." Ziva said very softly. It stuck in her throat and lodged in her memory like a cancer. Her hatred was unmistakable. She had tried very hard not to think of Somalia, not to think of the pain. The only person who could have known was the psychologist she was forced to see. And even then, Ziva did not speak of it directly. It was weakness. She was not a victim. She would never be a victim again. "Now let me go."

"Ziva."

"What!" Ziva barked at Tony, eyes blazing, nose wrinkled in anger. But when she saw his face - the bend in his brow, the pain in his eyes, that same look he gave her in the elevator..She softened just a little.

"I'm sorry." He leaned in and kissed her forehead, hands holding her face for an instant. Ziva trembled, her eyes fluttered shut. Then she bowed out of his arms, heading for the bathroom. As she reached the door, Tony laid a gray t-shirt over her shoulder. Ohio State. Ziva glanced at him from the corner of her eye. Then she stepped into the bathroom and closed the door. She closed it on Tony.

Steam billowed from the shower as Ziva turned the knobs with an abhorrent squeal. She undressed and slipped into the deluge of hot water. She washed, white soap bubbles washed away by trails of water that reddened her skin where it touched. She felt her scars. Scars that ran deeper than the skin that had been pierced, scars that she hid and hated and scars that Tony had never seen. Scars she would not tell Ray about. Ziva put the soap down and stopped. At first it was just quiet tears spilling down her cheeks, blending with the shower's spray. Ziva screwed her eyes shut and pressed her forehead to the tile of the wall, still cool. A lump formed in her throat as her apparent emotion gathered in her vocals. And she wept.

* * *

><p><em>I know the shape of your hands<em>  
><em> Because I watch 'em when you talk<em>  
><em> And I know the shape of your body<em>  
><em> 'Cause I watch it when you walk<em>

_[lyrics by Jaymay]  
><em>


	4. Chapter 4

_[Author's Note: Thank you so much for your favorites and feedback so far! This is my first fanfiction that I've actually stuck with and actually posted. Your support means the world to me. I hope you'll continue to read and I'd love to hear more from you! And if you're not – take my suggested soundtracks to heart! I'm trying to set a mood! Not to mention the songs are glorious. Also, apologies for the volume of fluff in this chapter. It just sort of happened.]_

* * *

><p><em>Suggested Soundtrack – The Villain by Austra<em>

* * *

><p>Why did he bring it up? Tony sat on the couch and flipped through channels on the television. Shark week. Sports. News. George Lopez. He stopped on AMC and left it there. But he didn't watch. The popcorn sat cold and untouched on the coffee table. Tony bowed his head into his hands and pressed the bridge of his nose between his thumbs.<p>

Now that he knew (and even just in the most basic of terms), he felt sick. Ziva had been in captivity for three months, and, granted, the thought had crossed his mind. The only thing that kept him from believing it was the fact that Ziva had never said anything. But hints kept coming, intentional or not.

And know he knew the truth.

And it broke his heart. He should have been there. Been there to stop it.

Tony's chest heaved with a sigh filled with burden. He got the truth, but at a cost. He'd probably pitched her right back to that place. And it didn't help that she was being stalked by some sick bastard. How was he going to handle this? Changing the subject to movies or jokes or something less than meaningful seemed wrong. And what should he do? Hug her? How could a hug or gentle words or a brush of his hand over her cheek ever heal wounds like that?

That helplessness only served to further break his heart.

* * *

><p>"Simply perfect." He murmured to no one in particular. Christopher Strahan held a newspaper in his hands, turned innocuously to sports. But on the page before him, he held a photograph with one thumb. Ziva David. She was perfect in his mind. Dark eyes. Wild, curled hair. Strong will. Everything he wanted in a woman. And he was going to take, oh, make no mistake. These were his and would only be his, and belonging to him – what could be better? But of course, they couldn't belong to anyone else. No, they all died, and even in death, they were his. They would know his passion, his justice, his wrath. They were his Eve, but he was no Adam.<p>

No, Christopher Strahan fancied himself as God.

He looked across the street. His eyes trained on Tony's car and he smiled. It was a waiting game now.

* * *

><p>The door came open with a creaking. Ziva stepped out, hazed in steam. Her hair was wet and curly, strands plastered to her face like reaching, gentle hands. Tony looked over his shoulder to see her. Ziva's eyes were red-rimmed and empty. She pushed her hair out of her face and Tony's heart skipped. He'd always thought she was a beautiful woman. He'd never denied it.<p>

"Hey."

Ziva looked up at Tony, her eyes glimmering acknowledgment, but nothing more. She was wearing his Ohio State tee. It was too big for her, naturally, but she looked no less graceful. It hung on her shoulders and floated to the middle of her browned thighs. Tony didn't try to suppress his staring. Ziva responded with a suspicious look combined with disapproval. She didn't come sit on the couch.

"You had no right to dig up the past." She said with quiet intensity.

"Are you wearing anything under that?"

"Damn it, Tony." Ziva growled. For the record, she _was _wearing underwear.

"Fine. A mystery it will remain."

He regressed to humor even though he told himself not to. A quiet moment passed.

"…"

"I'm sorry. I know." Tony.

"Then why?"

"I dunno, yanno? I always thought..or guessed..suspected? I guess I just finally had to know." He shrugged, but there was no more humor.

"Well now you now. Does that make you feel better?"

"No, actually, I feel like crap."

Ziva stepped to the refrigerator and snatched a beer out. She took a swig. She laughed a pained sort of half-laugh and returned to Tony's side at the couch. "I am not a victim, Tony. Not anymore."

"You're not over it." And she was a victim.

"No. And I do not think I ever will be. But nothing is without reason. What happened happened and I have accepted that."

Tony frowned. He wasn't sure how much he believed her.

"I have moved on." Ziva inclined her head. "I am in a stable relationship," Which wasn't the entire truth. "And for the most part, I am happy." She took another sip of beer. The alcohol burned going down, but it sated her troubled mind.

"Ziva.." Tony sighed, watching her drink.

"Okay," Ziva rolled her eyes. "I have not truly spoken to Ray since he left on work. Three months ago." There was undeniable resentment in her admission, whether she realized it or not.

"A not-so stable relationship."

Ziva shrugged. More beer. Finally she sat down on the couch, though she didn't look at Tony. She looked at her bare feet. "I am having doubts."

"Are you..opening up to me?" questioned Tony, shifting his eyes back and forth, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Like you said. I trust you, yes? I do not see why I should not tell you the feelings that I have." Her uncertainly was obvious to Tony. She knew it really – but right now Tony was her lifeline, in that he knew what she'd held in her soul like a demon for the past two years, and here he was, protecting her from a new sort of devil. Even when she needed no protecting and they both knew it. "You are my partner, Tony." A very slight smile tweaked the corners of her petite lips.

"So we're okay?"

Ziva hesitated. "Yes. To be truthful, I feel some measure of relief. Not enough to forgive you for prying into my personal life, of course. But relief nonetheless."

Tony smiled. "Hey." He waited until she looked up at him. Her worried expression didn't go unnoticed – she was probably dreading what other awful questions he had left. "You sleep in my bed tonight."

"Tony, I-" protested Ziva with an upturned palm at him.

"I'll sleep on the couch. If something happens, whatever it is'll have to come through me first."

Ziva laughed. "Not shoving your luck after all, Tony?" She'd half-expected him to try to get her in bed. But maybe that was old Tony. As she looked at him, she saw a different man. Maybe he was starting to grow up after all. But he had EJ.

"Pushing. It's 'pushing your luck'." He smiled playfully. "It's not like we haven't shared a bed before."

"We were undercover." Fond memories, for the most part. Except almost dying, of course.

"What about Paris?"

Ziva laughed, pulling her legs up and linking her arms just under her knees. "Tony, I do not think this is appropriate. You are in relationship."

"You aren't the only one with doubts."

Ziva turned her head to her partner finally, laying it on her knees. Her wet curls fell over her face again. She was waiting for him to talk. He offered a tense smile. "Let's just say it's been a long three months. It was good while it was going, but.." Tony's smile decayed into a frown and a shrug. "It's run its course. I just haven't had it in me to break it off."

"...I am proud of you, Tony."

"Yeah? For what?"

"Finally keeping down a relationship. A stable one."

"I've had stable relationships."

He cringed under Ziva's brief chuckle. "Fine. Two. Since I've known you."

"Jeanne does not count."

"What? Oh, come on!" His shoulders rolled and he extended his arms in a surrendering, disbelieving motion.

Ziva shifted and Tony couldn't help but notice how his shirt had ridden up on her. He had full view of her bent legs, all the way up to half an inch of exposed black underwear. Just cotton, but underwear nonetheless. "I suggest you look elsewhere before I make you." Ziva threatened. Apparently Tony was not the master of subtlety. It was a good-natured threat, but Tony took all of Ziva's threats at least half-seriously. So he looked at the TV. Commercial. The Hover-Round. There was no way that guy's name was really 'Tom Kruse'. It was too ridiculous. Tony's thoughts wandered and he found himself offended – did they think that only geezers watched AMC or something?

Ziva sipped more beer. It was more than half-gone. "I do not want to sleep." She finally said.

"That works. You snore."

Her jaw hung open at the accusation. "I do not!"

"I would know, Da-veed." He countered affectionately, batting his lashes knowingly. Ziva snatched the pillow next to her and smacked Tony around the shoulders and face, making him laugh. The onslaught stopped when Tony grabbed the small cushion for her and chucked it behind the couch.

"Did I ever tell you how much it weirds me out that you sleep with a gun..?"

* * *

><p>It was nearing two in the morning. After teasing Ziva relentlessly about her sleeping habits, Tony actually put a movie on. Or rather, it came on another channel, commercial free. Alien<em>. <em>He approved. But he didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until he woke up. It was with a start; he almost jarred Ziva awake with him. She'd slumped into sleep, arms folded over her middle gently. Surprisingly, she wasn't snoring. Just to prove him wrong, he bet. She was set against him, head on his chest. Somehow his arm had snaked around her shoulders. Tony grimaced. He didn't want to wake her. Still, he attempted to move his arm and pry her up. Instead, he caused her to slip down. Her head of chocolate curls crashed into his lap.

"Nnnngh..!" Tony yelped, biting his lip. She hadn't hurt anything, thank god, but it surprised him. Then Ziva stirred. Tony was tense, eyes squinted into a tight grimace. For what seemed like several minutes, he was frozen. Ziva's breathing was uninterrupted, prompting him to relax. Eventually.

"Fulfilling a fantasy, Tony?" Ziva said with sudden smarm.

Damn.

"You're the one who ended up in my lap."

"Hmm." Ziva murmured in an almost-laugh. She sat up, her now mostly dried hair springing out wildly. She scratched the back of her head and yawned.

"Jonesy made it."

"Who?"

"The cat." Tony gestured to the television set.

Ziva got up. Tony stayed on the couch as she brushed her teeth. She didn't say anything, but he knew she was getting ready to get in his bed. He yanked a throw from the back of the couch and he lay down. And he fell back asleep.

The sheets smelled like Tony. Not over-cologned Tony, but just..Tony. Ziva nestled under the covers - face down as always. Her hand stroked the smoothness of her gun beneath the pillow. Her hair spread onto the pillow like reaching seaweed in a white ocean. Breathing with deepness settled her, as did running her slender, toned legs between the cool sheets. She thought about Tony as she lay in his bed. And she breathed Tony as she slept there.

* * *

><p>"HEY!"<p>

_CRACK_

Ziva swirled out of bed, gun clutched in her hands with professional familiarity. A cold sweat beaded over her tanned flesh and she moved in a flurry, swift as death. It couldn't have been but four or five in the morning. When she reached the living room, she caught the tail end of a fight. Tony and another man in the darkness, illuminated only by streetlights filtering through the curtained windows. The stranger's white-blond hair was slicked back with grease and whose eyes were blue and sharp with cruelty. Blood trickled from his nose and it looked like he might have gotten a bruised cheekbone, if not broken, from Tony.

"Stop!" Ziva demanded, leveling her gun at the invader. Of course, she couldn't shoot. Not with Tony so close. The stranger – no, Strahan – whipped out a sledgehammer. Ziva vaulted over the couch to the fray, gun strained tight on Strahan, who managed to get the Tony twisted around to face Ziva, hammer handle pressed firmly to his throat. "LET HIM GO!" roared the female agent, not letting the trembling in her spirit sway her hands. She could hear her heart in her head.

"That's no way to talk." Strahan said coolly, pressing the bat tighter into Tony's neck in his gloved hands. He didn't look like he lived in the dump they'd found. Dress shirt, slacks, brown overcoat. Put together. "Put your gun down, Ziva. Or your dear Agent DiNozzo..well, he won't be breathing again." Tony gagged at a thrust of pressure. Rage crossed Ziva's face. The way he said her name infuriated her – as if he were a collector testing the validity of his treasures. Breaking pearls with his teeth.

Ziva slowly crouched and set her gun on the ground.

"Kick it."

Her foot flicked at the hunk of metal, shuffling it out of reach. Ziva looked at Tony, whose jaw looked to be in very bad shape. He was bleeding about the face, but from what Ziva was unsure. Why hadn't she woken sooner?

Christopher Strahan, with madness in his eyes, pulled a revolver from his side, free arm wrapping around Tony's undoubtedly bruised throat. He leveled it at Ziva and cocked the weapon.

Ziva held her arms up in submission, raising the shirt to bare the bottom half of her midriff. "Let him go." She said calmly. Strahan's light eyes flickered to Tony and back to Ziva, and he released Tony, who gasped for air and spun away.

_BLAM_

Tony shouted pain, his legs buckling. He'd shot him in the leg! Ziva sprung at Strahan, who holstered his gun and regain the sledgehammer. He swung, but Ziva rolled and tackled the man with the ferocity of a beast, slamming him against the wall, shaking the framed photos that hung there. "Bastard!" Ziva hissed, fury in her veins. He pushed back, not quite knocking Ziva off balance, but showing considerable strength, just enough to push her away and..

_THWACK_

"Ziva!"

Ziva's vision exploded into a starburst like a flurry of shattered glass. She crumpled, slamming into the couch in a pell-mell fall, until her chin cracked the edge and her body settled on the carpet. Everything swam.

Strahan knew how to handle his hammer. And he knew how hard to hit without killing her. Ziva lifted her hand to her head and it came away bloody, and thought that that was probably bad. Then everything sank into the abyss as darkness claimed her eyes and her mind.

_BLAM_

Another gunshot.

* * *

><p><em>Don't second-guess your feelings<em>  
><em>You were right from the start<em>  
><em>And I notice she's your lover<em>  
><em>But she's nowhere near your heart<em>

_[lyrics by Jaymay]_


	5. Chapter 5

_[Author's Note: Hey! I had some trouble with this chapter. It wasn't flowing like I'd hoped. Making up believable villains really sucks. I'm not sure how successful I was! And finally, some Abby. I realized I was lacking Abby. Anyway, if you read, **PLEASE REVIEW**. I'm likely to write more in the future and I want to know what you guys like and how I can improve. Also apologies for the horribly cruel cliffhanger last chapter. Enjoy and tell me what you think!]_

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><p>Suggested Soundtrack – Further by VNV Nation<p>

* * *

><p>Stillness. Ziva breathed in and out very slowly, though he heart felt like it would burst. She opened her eyes and was greeted with an unwelcome blackness. Fabric, she realized as her lashes grazed against it. A touch to her head made her jump, but it was gentle. A hand, a cool, wet cloth. Cleaning blood off, no doubt. "Gibbs?" She whispered hoarsely, her throat closed with dryness.<p>

The individual said nothing. Ziva stilled as the touch curled down her neck and folded down her back. Unwelcome. A chill chased up her spine, one that made her feel sick. Then she realized her hands were bound behind her back. Definitely not Gibbs.

"I'm offended."

Strahan. Ziva held her breath and prayed that Tony was okay. The last thing she remembered was her partner on the floor..a gunshot. "Did you kill Tony?" She said plainly, trying hard to sound objective. But she wasn't very good at that today.

"It hardly matters." Strahan's hand swept their ghostly touch from her back to her face, tracing her cheek and brushing over her bottom lip with the sensuality of a lover. Ziva resisted the temptation to bite the viper's finger and instead clenched her teeth together tightly and swallowed hard. She couldn't see, but Ziva could feel him hovering over her like a dark cloud, stifling the air. His hands caught in her hair, stroking her curls. In a way, she was more apprehensive about Strahan's intentions than she had been about Saleem's. She'd known his motivations. His methods. She'd seen what Strahan had done to women, but she didn't know him. "Of course it matters." Ziva hissed. "It determines how slowly I will kill you."

What she did know is that she was not going to be a victim.

In the midst of her thoughts, Strahan's hands worked the knot of her blindfold. The ribbon slipped down Ziva's shirt front and the sudden light stung her eyes. Wincing as light began to filter properly, the vague form of Christopher Strahan stepping away pulsed into focus. His overcoat was gone. He was tall – maybe as tall as her father. The overcoat was gone, showing strong, leanly muscled arms. Tanned flesh exposed under sleeves of a dress shirt that had been rolled up to the elbows. He was smiling at her with impossibly white teeth, not saying anything. Still greasy white-blond hair slicked back. She could see he had a short beard in the light of the naked bulb above them.

"I do not think you know who it is you are dealing with." Ziva breathed. "Because if I do not kill you myself, my partner will."

"And which one is that, Ziva? Tony? I don't think he'll be killing anyone. I've made sure of that."

Ziva swallowed hard and her eyes to hold back emotional panic.

"Gibbs then." She countered. And she knew he would if he found her.

"Oh, I'll make sure to kill you before that."

Ziva bristled and looked at her surroundings. No windows. Concrete floor, concrete walls. The vague sound of water rushing from a muffled distance. A basement? A storm shelter? Bomb shelter? She kept talking so she could think. "Why are you doing all of this?"

"Because you're mine."

"I belong to no one."

"Of course you do. Everyone and everything has a master," Strahan said with bravado. "I've been at this for years. Women who think they're strong, who can 'take care of themselves'. Oh, I love those."

Ziva's eyes narrowed dangerously at Strahan.

"I love proving them wrong." He leaned over Ziva, his large hands settling on the back of the chair, his face near hers. He leaned down until Ziva's nostrils filled with the smell of cigarettes and cheap cologne. "And crushing them." In a sudden motion, he dove in, lips crushing against hers in a hungry and lecherous kiss. Ziva reacted instantly, biting his bottom lip within half a second.

Strahan recoiled with an angry shout, blood flowing from his punctured lip. Ziva spat to the side to escape the taste of his mouth and his blood.

"Fine, you bitch." Strahan growled. He rose his hand and the harsh slap sent Ziva's head jerking to the left. She made no sound. She simply stared with those deadly eyes of hers. "You're just bait anyway."

Bait? Bait for what?

Strahan was clearly irritated, to say the least. He left in an angry flurry, leaving Ziva in silence. And he left her. And he didn't come back.

He left Ziva to cry for Tony. She was sure he was dead on his living room floor. Dead for trying to save her. So Ziva cried until the tears refused to well on her lashes and spill over her cheeks in silent fountains.

One hour. Two hours. Three. Or was it four now?

* * *

><p><em>Pamf.<em>

Blood on the carpet.

_Pamf._

Ziva's gun on the floor.

No Tony.

* * *

><p>"How is he?" It was Abby. Her voice was tight and worried and she very clearly hadn't slept and had been crying. Stress was fraying her nerves. Too many friends in the hospital or in danger or kidnapped by sociopaths.<p>

Leroy Jethro Gibbs' voice crackled through the receiver. "Lucky he's not in autopsy right now."

"That's a terrible answer, Gibbs!"

"He'll make it, Abby. Two gunshot wounds. Thigh and shoulder."

Abby Sciuto sighed and rubbed her temple with her free hand. "Any news on Ziva?"

"No. But I'll let you know. You got something for me, Abbs?"

Inhaling deeply to focus on the case as hand, she expanded on their knowledge of Strahan. She whisked over to her station and brought up window upon window of information. "Well, it looks like Strahan had a..well, a vendetta."

"Against..?"

"CIA. Turns out that Strahan's father – Joseph Strahan – worked for the CIA. In 1995, they found out that he was selling intelligence. He got convicted and put away. His wife filed for divorce in '96 because, well, her husband was going to spend the rest of his life in jail. But that's not all – guess who turned Strahan in?" Dramatic pause.

"Who?"

"None other than CIA agent Ray Cruz."

Gibbs processed that for a moment. "Good work, Abbs." He shut his cell phone and looked through the doorframe in the hospital. Tony was stirring in his cot. He'd be on heavy painkillers in addition to the sedative they'd had to administer. And anesthesia. Both slugs were recovered and surgery went as well as it could have. But the shoulder wound..bone had been shattered. It would a long road to recovery. Gibbs stepped in like a quiet sentinel watching guard over its ward. "Hey." He said with his tone balanced between gruffness and heart.

Tony's eyes flashed open and he lurched forward, only stopped by his own pain and Gibbs' firm hand on his chest. "Ziva!" He croaked, a wildness in his eyes as he searched the room. "Where is she!"

"Deep breath, DiNozzo. I was hoping you could tell me." Gibbs instructed, forcing Tony to lie back on the bearably comfortable mattress. "What happened?"

"What time is it?"

"Two in the afternoon."

Tony ran his hands over his face.

"You were shot twice."

"I know, boss." Tony muttered bitterly. He inhaled sharply and set his fingertips on his temples. His head was throbbing so hard it was as if his heart was there instead of in his chest. Deep breath. "Strahan broke into my place. Sometime after two in the morning; I don't know how long we were asleep. We fought, Ziva came out and tried to stop him, he shot me." Tony gestured to his leg with one hand. "Then he hit Ziva. With a hammer. In the head." His anger was unmistakable. Gibbs knew he was mad at himself.

"He tried to go for the kill shot," Tony murmured, making a gun with his hand and pointing it at his head. "I moved, he got my shoulder. Then I heard sirens and blacked out. Now I'm here."

Tony was full of frantic energy, even under drugs. "Boss, we've got to find her."

"I know, DiNozzo. BOLO's out. Doing everything we can."

"He's going to kill her!" Tony raged, moving to get up out of bed. It hurt, but damn it, he didn't care. He didn't care.

Gibbs didn't stop him. Tony limped to the chair where his clothes were. They were still stained with blood. His physical pain was dulled by medicines but he felt like he was dying. Everything was dying until he found Ziva. He learned two years ago that he couldn't live without her. And he didn't cross the ocean and brave the desert and stand toe-to-toe with terrorists to lose her now. That wasn't in the cards.

A blond nurse noticed as she passed by and bolted in. "Sir, please get back in bed!"

"No." Tony said, limping past her and to the door.

"You can't - !" She protested. Her brown eyes looked to Gibbs for help. Surely he'd agree that Tony shouldn't be out of bed. And he did. But he also knew there wasn't any stopping him. Tony left and Gibbs followed.

"Tony."

He didn't answer. He struggled to walk, but his determination was fierce.

"Tony."

Still nothing.

"HEY." Gibbs finally shouted, catching up and gripping Tony's good shoulder. "Ziva isn't his target."

"Of course it is! You saw the photos! He took her!"

"His target is Ray Cruz."

Tony blinked. _What?_ "Ray's not even in the country!" he spat.

"Yeah. I know."

* * *

><p>Ziva didn't know how much time had passed. Strahan had come back only once in at least twelve hours. He brought her a bottled water and freed her from the chair, but he didn't say a word to her. Only a scornful gaze and increasing irritation. He handcuffed her, but at least she could stand and move around. As much as ten by ten room would allow her to, anyway. After a few minutes though, Ziva found herself sitting back in the chair. She was weak from lack of food. Not that she was hungry. Her head felt like it had been rammed through with a hot iron.<p>

She sat. She thought. And she drifted into unsettled sleep.

"_Come now, Ziva.." Saleem said from the doorway. Ziva was dirty. Blood caked her skin. Her face was swollen, broken bones evident. "Your suffering can come to an end." She breathed in, a tightness in her lungs, wheezing her breaths as the metallic flavor of blood lingered on her tongue. In her head and in her words, she refused. They came like shadows, silent giants. Through her blurred vision they were nightmarish. She would have cried out when she jerked her hair and pulled her from her seat, but starvation had taken its toll. It hurt when they moved her, rough hands jarring her already so bruised and so broken body. Names and face dimly drifted through her consciousness – McGee. Abby. Eli, her father. Gibbs. Tony. Mostly Tony. _

_She held onto him like a life preserver, only to have it snatched away when they touched her. When they used her. When she just wanted to die. Detachment didn't going very far when men stole from her what should have only been for the men that she loved. Hands grazed over her bruised thighs and men pressed into her nakedness. If she could, she would have cried. Or screamed or threatened. But after so long, she just wanted to die. They used her until there was nothing left to give. After a lifetime they were gone, leaving Ziva curled into a half-naked ball on the ground, begging God to take her. Spent and empty, battered and broken. And in that darkness, she thought of Tony again. But her prayers never changed. She wanted to die. _

_Then Saleem came, jerking her up by her hair. And he kept crushing her. And he never stopped crushing her until a bullet was put in his head._

Ziva was jarred awake. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She hadn't dreamt so vividly about Somalia in over a year. Strahan was there. Behind her, breathing quietly. "Nightmare?" He said smoothly, dripping with fake concern.

Ziva said nothing.

"Where is he?"

"…Who?" She said very softly.

"Cruz."

Ziva blinked and her brows furrowed. He was looking for Ray? "Ray? He…he's not even in the country."

Strahan inhaled stiffly. Ziva waited – and then was jerked up roughly by the hands, the metal of the cuffs biting into her already raw and bleeding wrists. "Nnn..!" Ziva grunted as Strahan slammed her face-first into the concrete. She turned her face to the side and was quite she her nose was broken now. Strahan leaned over her shoulder. "Most men would come for the women they love. Even from another country. Men have died for less."

"…Does he know?"

"Of course he knows!" Strahan roared, pressing her harder. "I told him myself!" He moved off of her and yanked his sledgehammer from a loop on his belt, red with fury. "You're going to die for nothing." He sounded almost sad about it. But then he laughed, a cruel, frightening chuckle that turned her veins to ice and suffocated her soul. It was how Saleem's men laughed.

Strahan headed for the door. "When I come back..I will break your bones and you? – You will die."

* * *

><p><em>This city is for strangers<em>  
><em> Like the sky is for the stars<em>  
><em> But I think it's very dangerous<em>  
><em> If we do not take what's ours<em>

_[lyrics by Jaymay]_


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **_Sorry for the wait! I had a little trouble with this one. It also hurt me to do what I did buh huh. We've still got a ways to go, I hope. I'm enjoying writing. Also, the villain Strahan is a little nod to one of my favorite authors, Ted Dekker. He writes fantastic villains in his thrillers and I would be a liar to say he didn't inspire me. Mine aren't on the par of his, but I still hope he's been a decent antagonist. Thank you for your reviews and support!_

* * *

><p>Suggested Soundtrack – Heron Blue by Sun Kil Moon<p>

* * *

><p>Ray wouldn't come for her, Ziva knew in the pit of her stomach. Maybe if he could have, he would. But even then, was she so sure? But then, did she have reason to doubt that? It was difficult to feel wanted when he was so far away. And so silent. But he was there in the barn alongside Tony and Gibbs to rescue her. She truly believed that Ray loved her. And yet doubt grew and spread like a cancer.<p>

But she didn't doubt Tony. Or Gibbs. They would come for her, not merely because she was their partner. No, they loved her.

Tony loved her.

Maybe he always had. It was wrapped up in different words for them, but it was love. Even when they saw other people, they still had that relationship. Intimate. They trusted one another in ways that most lovers could only dream. She knew how to rile him up as well as she knew how to comfort him. A glance and she knew his thoughts and a touch said all that was needed. Ziva remembered somewhere that intimacy was not always touch and sex. No, intimacy was knowing the other person. A closeness of the soul. Honesty. Trust.

Love.

In her heart, Ziva knew that she did not have intimacy with Ray like she had with Tony. They'd chased around it for years. Ziva felt a cold stab of regret. That was a lot of wasted time. And maybe it was too late. And unlike Somalia, Ziva did not want to die here. But she sure expected to. She'd die alone. Tony'd never be able to wear his t-shirt again. Ziva laughed quietly to herself out of necessity. Now she had to live. This was Tony's favorite shirt. Ziva bit her lip and her hand drifted to her face. Not lasting damage. Just a nasty bruise.

_BAM_

Ziva's thoughts were interrupted by the madman named Strahan. His chest rose and fell intensely, a wildness in his light eyes. Hair was mussed. Anger set his teeth into a rough grind against one another, baring them like a mad dog. Ziva could see his sledgehammer at his hip, strung in his belt loop like before. A roll of duct tape was clenched in his fist. When he looked at Ziva, she saw those blue eyes and it was like falling into hell. Ziva snapped her head away from those eyes, only to be roughly jerked up again, this time by her shirt front. She stiffened, her feet grazing over the dirty concrete. Strahan was strong. Anywhere but those eyes. Ziva focused on his chin, his mouth, anywhere but the eyes. They were more than dead, but an encompassing horror that killed what they touched. He smelled like he'd been drinking. It practically wafted from his pores.

"How'd he get here?" At first it was a quiet, tightly wound question. Ziva was beginning to think Strahan wasn't as much a mastermind as he was simply..mad.

"Who?" replied Ziva, calm and collected.

Strahan's eyelid twitched and the corners of his mouth tensed tightly. He whirled Ziva around roughly and herded her out the doors, hands tight on neck and the chain of the cuffs. The walls were bare, sad concrete like the small room. Water dripped from the walls in a few places, the long, narrow hallway illuminated in the same way the room had been – naked bulbs. Most yellowed and dim with age. If Tony were here, Ziva was sure he'd compare it to some horror movie.

Either way, someone had thrown a kink into Strahan's plans. "You told him, bitch.." She heard him mutter against her ear. She realized then that they'd stopped walking. Ziva took the moment to retaliate. "How could I have told _anyone anything_!" She spat. "You have left me without food or water for God knows how long!"

Strahan leaned his face close beside hers. His hand left her neck, trailing down her back like he'd done the first day. Ziva held her breath, inhaling sharply in disgust. The results of Caruther's autopsy flickered through her mind like lightning dancing over a thunderstorming sky. The findings from the rape kit.

No. No one would ever do that to her again.

Even in her weakened state, the idea of letting this man touch her set a fire alight in her bones. She found the will to make her body do what it needed to do. In one smooth motion, Ziva pitched forward just enough to get the momentum necessary to whip her head backwards, crashing against his hard. The pain in her head was worth it – Strahan was taken aback just enough. With a shout peppered with curses, he recoiled. And Ziva ran. Hands fastened behind her back, she ran. And now she needed a plan.

No gun. No knife.

Vaguely, Ziva could hear Strahan's footfalls behind her. Usually her speed outdid any man's. But her weakness slowed her. Ziva turned corner after corner and was only reminded of a labyrinth. Each plod of her weary feet on the concrete was coupled with Strahan's behind her, louder every second. Ziva's heart thundered in her chest and a dizziness crawled into her swimming head. She paused against the wall for the briefest of seconds, inhaling deeply as if there were only a few breaths of air left in the world.

"_How'd he get here!"_

Wait. Who was here? Ziva whirled, ignoring the blurring of her vision. _Just run._

She headed the voice in her head, dark curls twisting behind her and the soft cotton of the t-shirt fluttering. Stairs! Ziva almost missed them, down a short hall, unlit. A crack in what must have been a cellar door was the only light. She sprinted up the stairs two steps at a time and slammed her body against the door, on the brink of freedom - !

_WHAM_

Ziva was blown back. Locked! _No, no, no!_ She let her eyes scramble, squinted in the dark, over the perimeter of the door, searching for a latch or a handle or a lock, anything! They found a rusted crossbar in the strangely suffocating darkness. Light was so close!

Then the train hit. Ziva was in such a panic to get out that she'd momentarily forgotten Strahan. And he'd taken full advantage of her distraction. Her forehead came off of the wooden step bloody. At this rate he was going to give her a traumatic brain injury and she'd die from that instead. Dimly it registered that his arms had latched around her waist and she was being pulled – up. Up through the door, into the light! Then her heart stopped and lodged itself in her throat.

Tony.

* * *

><p>Strahan hadn't expected Ziva to fight him in the hall. Perhaps he should have. But then, perhaps he shouldn't have had two beers. Or beaten the agent in front of them with the bottle. Among other..implements. It was crude. Not that he was the type of man to care about being elegant. He'd spent hours watching Ziva. Through holes, through cracks. He'd spent years refining a tiny basement into a place of operations. He knew every nook and cranny. Ever puddle and bloodstain. Mostly the bloodstains. Ziva was beautiful and it took more strength than he imagined not to show her his passion. But Christopher Strahan was a prudent man. Caruthers had deserved it. And her death. But Ziva deserved it too. But the right moment had not been upon them. Strahan was a patient man, a mixture of brutality and intellect. He used more of whichever suited him at the time.<p>

His mistake, he knew as soon as Anthony DiNozzo showed back up, was using Ziva's cellphone – snatched at the apartment – to send a message to Ray. Scratch that. The first mistake was not putting a slug in DiNozzo's head. But he was not without other ideas. If he could not obtain the true desire of his heart – slowly herding Ray to hell as he killed his beloved Ziva in the most brutal of fashions before finishing him off himself – he would find other ways. At the very least, he would get the satisfaction of tearing someone Ray cared about away from him as Ray had done in the fall of 1996. For now, Tony would do as a surrogate. He would cry for God to be merciful. But Strahan was not a kind and loving god. He was one of the old gods.

And he needed to punish Eve for her rebellion.

* * *

><p>Tony was in a world of hurt, to say the least. Glass riddled his arm. Imbedded from a broken bottle. His eyes stung, blinking against the blood the spilled over his brows. When he arrived at the secluded ranch house, all he could think of was the original <em>Texas Chainsaw Massacre<em>. And that wasn't too far off, by the looks of things. Animal heads on the walls, worn wood floors. Hideous wallpaper. Not that he could see any of it too well at the moment.

He'd been stupid. He went ahead of Gibbs and Tim. Nothing could've stopped him. Especially time. Who knew how long it would be until they arrived. It probably wouldn't matter. Strahan had been waiting. Shooting with one hand was hard enough without a man-tank hurling himself at him like a berserker. The fight got physical. Tony lost. He didn't particularly want to think through how badly.

Either way, he now found himself handcuffed to a pipe of some sort, running from the roof to the floor. Where did this guy get all these handcuffs anyway? Probably some kinky online sex store. Then again, they weren't fuzzy. The redness at his wrists told him that much. A sudden thud from somewhere beneath him caught Tony's attention. He saw the floor saw maybe twelve feet away. Then there was chilling _crack _and the sound of a woman inhaling heavily and grunting in pain. Another small _crack _followed, then a louder cry.

Ziva.

"HEY!" Tony barked, angry. There was a squeal of metal on metal and the floor opened up. A hatch. He saw Ziva first and when he did, he knew he was going to kill Christopher Strahan.

Fresh blood stained her dark hair, matting it where blood before it had dried. She looked weak. Bruised. Her eyes still electrified what they touched, even though they were half-lidded. He could tell that she did not want to die. For some reason, it surprised him. She always said she'd rather die than be taken captive. Even before Somalia. Then he noticed. Her hands hung limp from her arms, but it was clear she'd been cuffed too. And too tight. Her wrists we raw, bleeding in some places. But what he noticed more than the marks was the fact that her index finger on her left hand was..wrong. So was her thumb – joints bent back at impossible angles. Her fingers were broken.

Strahan held her and was clearly the only reason she could stand. Her face said more than he could handle about the pain she was in. Then she saw him. He could see the watering of her eyes, the tremble in her lip. Whether she was overjoyed (unlikely) or upset he didn't know. She was probably just in pain. He met her stare as much as it hurt him to do, holding onto her eyes for as long as he could. When Strahan lifted her by middle and dumped her on the dusty, floral-patterned couch (Had to have been from the 60s), she kept her head turned. To him. When she landed, she hissed a pained breath of air in. Her fingers. Ziva just lay in a heap on the couch. Why didn't she get up and fight?

Fighting crossed Ziva's mind. Then again, if she fought back, Tony was now in the equation. Just like in his apartment – she had to worry about protecting him.

"Congratulations. The worm didn't show up." Strahan goaded Tony, "So you get the pleasure of watching me kill her."

"That doesn't sound like a good prize, buddy. I'd like to speak to your manager."

Typical Tony. Bleeding and handcuffed and still cracking jokes. That gave Ziva some measure of comfort. But her fingers hurt – swollen and throbbing, each pulse riddling her nerves with sharp, abrasive pain. At least it was her left, but that was hardly a patch of sunshine in their situation. Somewhere, Strahan laughed. Ziva screwed her eyes shut and tried to block the sound out.

"There are alternatives."

Ziva started as Strahan's rough hewn hands rolled her onto her back. His fingers traveled up her legs like tiny snakes, rolling her shirt up and clasping her hips. Strahan laced his thumbs into the hem of her underwear.

"Whoa, hey," growled Tony, an edge of tension in his tone. He wasn't about to watch this happen. He pulled against the cuffs until he thought they'd break his wrist.

Ziva's reaction was a little more..forceful. She curled her legs up and, no longer cuffed, launched herself at Strahan as adrenaline surged into her system. "Do not touch me!" She demanded, good hand shooting up to squeeze her attacker's throat. Christopher Strahan blinked, appearing to be stunned by the strength of her grip. Then he smiled and, in a quick, easy motion, released her hips. Ziva did not, however, release his neck.

"Fine." Chortled Strahan darkly. His hand went to his belt loop and he struck just as Ziva remembered what was there.

Tony heard the nauseating _pop. _Ziva made very little sound, and for a minute, Tony was afraid she'd passed out. The sledgehammer had struck her right shin and had very obviously broken the bone. Ziva's chest heaved and her eyes were wide and feral. Sweat broke out on her brow and she moved. Strahan pushed her back down and swung again. The metal collided with her left forearm, which twisted like a dead branch. _Pop_.

Ziva cried out that time, a croaking sort of shout. Her mind, so swamped with incomprehensible pain, couldn't direct her voice to yell properly.

"Stop!" Tony cried, struggling like a dog chained to a post. He had to get to her!

_BLAM._

The shot came from nowhere. Strahan went still and collapsed onto the couch, on Ziva. She scrambled, face twisted up in pain, to escape his weight. Tony whipped his head back to find the source. Gibbs stood in the far door, pistol still held at shoulder-level. He lowered it very slowly. The silver-haired Marine jogged Ziva, immediately clutching her face in his hands, whispering comfort and questions against her forehead. Ziva nodded a few times before she went limp. It was too much. Jethro frowned heavily and set her against the couch for a minute before turning to Tony.

His face was streaked with tears, his eyes red and glassy. Gibbs didn't say a word. He freed Tony just as McGee joined them, barging in the screen door irreverently, "Boss! Did you find -? Oh." Tim joined Gibbs in the frowning club, though McGee's undoubtedly showed more outward concern. He stood there, numb at the scene as Gibbs freed Tony from the pipe.

And Tony ran to her (or limped, rather), bending to hold her in his arms. He was as careful as he could be. "Call an ambulance." He said with a tone that was about to burst over into madness.

"Already made the call." Gibbs murmured. "You get to the car."

"No." Tony shook his head while his hand stroked Ziva's matted tangles. "I'm going with Ziva."

"…"

"I'm going _with Ziva._"

Jethro turned away, obviously expecting them to follow. Tony picked Ziva up as carefully as he could. As hurt as he was, he found the strength. He had to be careful not to jar her or damage her broken limbs further. But he carried her. Out onto the decaying porch. A gravel road stretched out from them, only two cars parked there. Theirs and Strahan's. In the distance, Tony could here sirens. "Hang on." He whispered down to Ziva, who couldn't hear it. "_Hang on."_

* * *

><p><em>Charming<br>Crazy eyes have you  
>Are they gray or blue?<br>I won't make the move  
>You must make the move<br>If you make the move  
>I will then approve<br>If you do not move  
>We will surely lose...<em>

_[lyrics by Jaymay]  
><em>


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: **_This is not the last chapter! :) Time for the more fluffy stuff._

* * *

><p>Suggested Soundtrack: Hazy by Rosi Golan (feat. William Fitzsimmons)<p>

* * *

><p>It was a long ride from Strahan's safehouse back to DC. Tony sat in the back of the ambulance, alone with Ziva. Well, there was one paramedic in the back. But he'd been good about not saying anything once making sure they were both stable. Gibbs and McGee were waiting for a pick up for Strahan's body, but would be following as soon as they could get away. More than anything, he wanted to talk to Ziva. Hold her, tell her it was okay. The paramedics had instantly sedated her after she stirred from unconsciousness, frantic and writhing in pain. So Tony just sat in the cramped space, hunched over her body laid upon the gurney, clasping her unbroken hand in his. He memorized her hand – each smoothness, each callous. The gentle almond shape of her nails, everything. Everything. When he'd combed over every subtlety like it was the only thing worth knowing, he watched her, his large hands still protectively over hers. He brought the top of it to his lips, kissing it in a quick flutter even though his lips were cracked and bloody. Tony didn't think Ziva would mind.<p>

He was just glad she was alive.

He couldn't imagine what hell she'd been dragged through again. All he knew is that he couldn't stand to watch it. He couldn't stand to see another man touching her like that. Sure, he tolerated it when they were boyfriends and lovers. But seeing Strahan so ready to do whatever his sick heart wanted – so willing to use her, to break her body apart.

_Pop._

Tony dry heaved and the paramedic started, prompting Tony to dismiss him with a raised hand. "I'm fine, I'm good. Promise." God, that sound. The sound of Ziva's bones breaking under the weight of Strahan's misplaced vengeance pierced his soul and swallowed it. It was Ziva! It was one thing to rescue her post-torture. It was another to witness it. And to be helpless to stop it.

If Gibbs hadn't shown up..well. He would've had to watch Strahan break her bones one by one until he either slit her wrists or until the internal bleeding did its job. And then die himself.

A grateful shudder twitched in his muscles. Gibbs saved the day yet again. Then Tony realized he was crying. Jeeze. He'd never cried so much. He was Tony! Tony was all jokes or all business. Tony was not a crier. And here he was, tears dehydrating him and jumping from his chin to his hands. To her hand. It didn't embarrass him, though. It didn't emasculate him like he expected. Still, Tony blinked them back as much as he could stand to.

The ambulance lurched to a stop and Ziva was unloaded and rushed into the emergency room in a flurry of activity. Letting go of her hand was the worst part. A nurse stopped him from following and redirected him to have his own injuries tended to. She was short with him and Tony had to chuckle once he realized it was the same nurse he'd walked out on before.

They sat him down, poked and prodded. Asked questions about the day and his name and where he worked and what exactly had happened. They poured alcohol into wounds and seared the back of his eyes with invasive lights, force-fed him antibiotics and wrapped everything they could in neat white bandages. But Tony only had one thing on his mind.

"Is Ziva okay?"

"She's in surgery. We'll let you know as soon as we can."

They made him stay in a damn hospital room too, to make matters worse. He paced, unresting. Abby burst in with Ducky in tow in record time. "Tony!" She cried, throwing her arms around his neck. Tony grunted back the tender pain. "Hey Abbs."

"Have you heard anything from Ziva?" Her eyes were watery and her lips tight with worry.

"Still in surgery." Tony said flatly. Ducky was looking at him.

"Oh, Tony.." Abby sniffled. "I was so worried..I mean, I know you're both great agents and –"

"Yeah, Abby. I know." Tony offered her a comforting smile. She gave him one back, but it was overwhelmed with sadness. She pulled away.

"Abigail, why don't you go get Tony here a bottled water?" Ducky articulated. The nurses had already brought water to Tony. It meant he wanted a moment alone. Abby caught on and nodded while she wiped a tear from her cheek.

Ducky watched her leave before looking expectantly at Tony.

"I had to watch, Ducky." He finally uttered.

"What exactly, my boy?"

"He tried.." Tony brushed a hand through his hair, only to grimace as a cut on his head stung. "He tried to rape her."

"Oh dear.." Ducky said, very aware of his understatement.

"She fought. I don't know how she did it. Ducky, she was bleeding. Everywhere. She was cut and bruised and.." he let out a stream of air from pursed lips. "Then he grabbed a sledgehammer and just..beat her with it." Tony's hand shook violently. "I _heard _her bones break, Ducky." A sickness grew in the pit of his stomach, forcing him to sit on the hospital bed.

Ducky sighed a sigh that seemed to evaporate, the type that wondered about injustice and cruelty in the world. Tony wondered himself. "Ziva is going to have a long road to recovery, Anthony. And not just physically."

"Yeah."

"But you must understand how..very proud I am of you. Ziva means a great deal to all of us..but you in particular, my boy, have stared death in the eye twice for her sake."

"McGee was with me in Som—"

"Of course, of course. I only mean to say…" Ducky cleared his throat, as if he wasn't sure what he meant to say at all. "The biblical book of John has a passage; It goes something like, 'No man shows greater love than when a he lays down his life for his beloved.' Anthony, that sort of love – the sacrificial sort – that's what I've seen from you today."

Tony clasped his hands together and pressed his forehead against them. "I would have gone into the gates of hell to bring her back, Ducky."

"Because you love her, Anthony." Ducky smiled a fraction. "As we all do. But for some of us.." he gestured at Tony. "It's different."

"I know what you're getting at."

"And you've been getting at it for six years, Anthony, whether you knew it or not."

"…Yeah. I guess." Tony didn't particularly feel like hashing out his feelings with Ducky. "Gibbs' rule?"

"You've already broken that one as I recall."

Oh. "Right."

"Ducky?" Abby's voice from the doorway. Tony didn't know how long she'd been standing there, but the faint smile on her features against her tear-stained cheeks made him think it was longer than he'd thought. "The nurse says Ziva is stable and on her way out of the ER."

"Excellent news, Abigail," Smiled the medical examiner. He ambled towards the door, only turning to add one last thought to their conversation. "I would hate to see you wait any longer, Anthony." They left and Tony just sat on the bed. Nurses came and went, checking up on him (unnecessarily he thought). The revelation hit and he felt stupid for not realizing it.

He loved Ziva.

Sure, they'd always had chemistry. You had to when the first thing the woman ever said to you was about phone sex. That attraction, that flirtation – it was a constant. Even years later. But he trusted his life to her and so did she. They were more than partners on a team. They simply were. He couldn't live without Ziva David.

* * *

><p>It took nearly a day for Ziva to wake up. Tony refused to stay in his room. He went to hers, ignoring the duress from the nurses. His chair was near the window, but he never looked out. When exhaustion didn't win out, he just watched her. Under the sheets he knew her leg was wrapped in a heavy cast. He quickly learned that they'd had to put a rod in her leg. It was going to take several months for her to recover. But she'd make it and be able to function fine after some physical therapy. Her arm wasn't quite as bad off, but it would take a lot of time. Ziva had stitches in her scalp, but they tried not shave her hair.<p>

He'd be fine, too. Just had to heal. People came in and out for awhile. Gibbs and McGee finally made it. They got Tony's side of the story for the report, patted him on the back, but didn't try to stir up conversation like Ducky did. Tony didn't expect Gibbs to, but it almost surprised him that Tim didn't.

They were alone when Ziva's eyes fluttered open a fraction. She didn't move, she didn't speak. She just opened her eyes to weary half-lids. Tony had his arms crossed over his chest at the time, his head dipped onto his chest in sleep.

"Tony?" Ziva rasped. He woke quickly and before she knew it, he was up and by her side. Tony leaned over her, hand brushing her tangles away from her face. "I'm here." He said softly. He looked bad. She probably looked worse.

"How you feelin'?" He asked with a half-smile.

"Not very good." Ziva replied. Drugs numbed the pain for the most part, but she still felt nauseous from the anesthesia. Her recollection of what had happened was distant at best. She remembered Gibbs, and a snippet of waking in Tony's arms in excessive pain, then..now. "Where am –"

"Hospital." Tony handed her a glass of water and helped her drink it from her horizontal vantage point. "Doc says you've got a big bad break in your tibia. And radius. But you'll be good."

It took everything in him not to grab her face and kiss her. It didn't seem appropriate at the time. Ziva seemed pleased with her prognosis, but obviously knew that it would take time. A lot of time. After a bit of small talk, Tony noticed tears welling up in her eyes again.

"Ziva?"

"Tony, I…" She swallowed hard while her good hand found his. Tony tensed and directed all of his attention to her. Ziva was still quiet for awhile, wrestling with words. "I do not know how to say..what it is I want to say."

Tony rubbed the top of her hand with his thumb gently. That was all he did to coax her.

Ziva breathed in a shuddering burst of air. "When I was..captive. I did a lot of thinking." Another pause. "Tony, I am feeling that…perhaps…"

She never was good at bringing up personal feelings. They always had to be extracted. "Perhaps you are more than a partner to me."

"Of course." Tony said hurriedly. He wanted her to get it out. His heart was beating quickly in his chest and his stomach turned in on itself in nervous anticipation. "We're like family, you n' me.."

"No, Tony." Ziva squeezed his hand. "I mean to say…I believe I am in love with you." Her heart hammered as she said it. What was he going to think of her? Tony stared for a moment, gears turning. Then he smiled. A wide, gleeful smile. Ziva didn't expect him to lean down and plant a quick, fiery kiss to her lips, but that's what he did just the same. It was like a warm splash of water, cleansing tension from her bones. Of course, she was still very lightheaded, so how much of the kiss she actually felt was in dispute. But it didn't matter. He kissed her.

"Confession time, Da-veed." Tony smiled, white teeth flashing. He was like a schoolboy. "I'm pretty sure I might maybe sort-of did some thinking myself and kind of came to the same conclusion." He shrugged. "I think that's a sign, Zee-vah."

A small and grateful smile crossed her face. "You are sure?"

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure I think I love you too."

The tears poured over Ziva's cheeks, but not for anything but gladness. Tony loved her.

* * *

><p><em>And I'm winning you with words<em>  
><em> Because I have no other way<em>  
><em> I'd love to look into your face<em>  
><em> Without your eyes turning away<em>

_[lyrics by Jaymay]  
><em>


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: **_Apologies for the wait! I'm feeling a couple more chapters in this one and then perhaps a sequel. Or something new, or maybe both - we'll see! Thank you for your love and attention. I hope you find it satisfying to read as I do to write._

* * *

><p><em>Suggested Soundtrack – Tomorrow by Rosie Thomas<em>

* * *

><p>Sometimes saying nothing was everything. It reminded Ziva of the times she'd sat shiva – expect here, it was not for mourning. The silence, the unspoken companionship of hearts united by a common thread. Tony held her hand and, for the time being, that was all Ziva needed. He didn't prompt her to speak on what had happened. In the back of her mind, she knew he wouldn't.<p>

Ducky and Abby visited and it was clear that they knew better than a casual observer what had happened between them. Abby in particular was bouncing between frantic worry over her condition and utter excitement. She left a bouquet of black roses and a warm smile. Nurses came and went. Silence settled again, but to Ziva, it spoke volumes. She just smiled at Tony and he smiled at her. It was..pleasant.

Then Ziva's phone rang. Tony picked it up for her and frowned. His displeasure couldn't have been more evident – until of course, he said the name of the caller like it was a bitter taste. "Ray."

Ziva sighed. "I do have to talk to him, Tony."

"I know, Ziva." He handed the phone over with reluctance. He was just trying to protect her, she knew.

"Hi, Ray." She said over the phone with a tense smile.

"Ziva! Oh my god, are you okay?"

"You have heard then."

"I got the message, yeah."

"No, Ray. I am not okay." Tony grabbed the phone without pulling it from her hand and spoke.

"Ziva here's got a few broken bones thanks to your deranged buddy, C-I-Ray."

"Tony.." Ziva warned with a frown.

"It will take time. But I will heal."

"I took the first flight I could as soon as I got temporary leave."

That made Ziva freeze. He was coming for her? The whole time? And she'd doubted..But Tony. Tony. "Thank you, but," Ziva said, blinking back reserves of emotion with fluttering lashes. "Ray, we have got to talk."

"Is this about—"

"It is about everything Ray. We just need to talk."

He went quiet for a moment, and Ziva swore he knew. "Alright, Ziva. I'll be at the hospital in a few hours. I love you."

Ziva struggled for a moment. "Alright. I will see you then. And..I love you too." She hung up and the confused (perhaps hurt) expression on Tony's features was unmistakable.

"It is not that simple, Tony. I am not about to break up with him over the phone."

"You told him you loved him."

"That is because I do, Tony." Ziva said, breaking her eyes from his. "Do you not believe someone can love another without being with them romantically?"

"No, I do. I just..if this is something we do, yanno. If we get into this, I don't want to worry about..yanno."

Ziva exhaled with great concentration. "You do not need to be jealous, Tony. Not anymore." She lifted her hand to cover his, running her fingers lovingly over his knuckles. "But this has to be done. And you have to deal with EJ just as I have to deal with Ray."

Tony conceded in his usual hard-headed way. "Mmm, I guess." Topped off with a shrug.

"I feel bad."

"Why?"

Ziva frowned and looked back at Tony. "He was coming for me after all. Got off of a very secretive assignment for me – and now I have to break his heart. That does not give me the warm fluffies."

"Fuzzies."

"What?"

"It's 'warm fuzzies'."

Ziva just rolled her eyes and her body language, as limited as it was, conveyed that she was a little put out. Tony flipped her hand in his and squeezed it. "It's not easy. I know."

Ziva stared at him with half-lidded eyes. "You do, don't you?" Rhetorical question. "I am not very used to it. Most of my boyfriends have died." Her gestures and expression were more lighthearted about it than Tony had expected.

"That was really morbid, Da-veed." Commented Tony with a sad smile. He'd killed one of those boyfriends. He honestly hadn't expected her to bring that up.

"That is life, Tony."

They went back to the quietness. But it wasn't as awkward as it usually would have been after such a conversation. It was a comfortable quietness that said "I know all of you." In that perfect stillness, Ziva succumbed to the lingering effects of the medications cocktail coursing through her system and disappeared into a peaceful slumber. By the peace across her face, Tony could tell it was not a restless, fear-ridden sleep. He leaned in and planted the softest of kisses to her cheek and he hobbled out into the hallway. Just in time to see Gibbs heading his way.

"Hey Boss."

"DiNozzo."

"I actually need to have a word with you –"

"Hold on." Gibbs blew past Tony and into Ziva's room. It was obvious he hadn't been able to visit Ziva since she'd woken. Tony stifled what he was about to say and watched through the glass. Gibbs sat on the edge of the bed beside Ziva and just looked at her for a long while like a worried father. She stirred a little and opened her eyes, smiling when she saw Gibbs. They spoke to one another in hushed tones for a good ten minutes. Tony didn't bother trying to eavesdrop. He went to get a coffee.

* * *

><p>"How you holding up, Ziver?" Jethro murmured, brushing her brow with his knuckle.<p>

"I am better, Gibbs." Ziva assured, knowing full well it was a lie.

"You're going to be out on leave for awhile." He said with a rueful smile. "DiNozzo too."

"I expected as much." Ziva sighed. The thought of being forced out and then cooped up at home while her bones healed was maddening. She wanted to do her job. Gibbs obviously sensed her frustration. "We've all been there. It sucks but it happens."

"Have you spoken to Tony?"

"Not really."

Ziva's eyes drifted from Gibbs over to the door. She had expected to see Tony there and was surprised when she did not. "I know that this is not the best time to talk about my personal life, but…" She readjusted to look to Gibbs again, dark eyes focusing on his stern features. "Since you are very much a father to me and I.."

She paused, a small frown hanging on the corners of her mouth.

"Yeah?" Gibbs prodded her to continue.

"I suppose I am seeking your approval."

"For what, Ziver?"

"Well, first and foremost –" she felt like she was babbling, "I am going to break up with Ray. But Gibbs, I…"

Ziva took in a deep breath as if she feared being headslapped. "Tony and I have talked and we have come to a conclusion." Gibbs looked impatiently expectant, but she was surprised he hadn't said something to her about beating around the shrubs.

"We love eachother, Gibbs." Said Ziva finally. It felt good to say, but her heart rate was up. Gibbs glanced at the monitor, but he didn't need to.

"Rule Twelve." He said.

Ziva's heart sunk like a stone in her chest. "I know." Her tone was defeated. Frustrated.

Gibbs leaned in just a little. "Tony broke my rule for Barrett. I didn't stop him. What makes you think," He was whispering in her ear at this point, "I would stop him from breaking it for you?"

Ziva's eyes welled with tears and trickled from the corners of her eyes. Her boss wiped her cheek with his thumb, offering her a weary smile. "Keep it professional and we won't have problems." It was easier for him to allow it, mostly because Tony and Ziva had acted on emotion and love for one another – whether they knew it or not – and had come through. "You're both damn good agents. I trust you."

"Thank you." Ziva choked. Her heart raced, but now from brimming joy.

"Get some rest." Gibbs commanded in a fatherly, almost doting tone. He kissed her brow and stood up. "We'll see if we can't get you home soon."

"Boss." Tony met Gibbs as he was leaving Ziva's room. He had a coffee in hand, which Gibbs took. Tony didn't protest. "I need to talk to you about Ziv—"

"I already know, DiNozzo. Just talked to her."

"And you're okay with that?"

"Hasn't stopped you before."

A sheepish expression crossed Tony's features. "Right."

"Mazel tov, DiNozzo." Gibbs took a sip of the coffee and walked away. Was it really that easy? Apparently so. He burst back into Ziva's room, startling the nurse that was there. He ignored her entirely, rushing Ziva as if she'd come back from a year at war. He leaned over her and kissed her hair, her forehead, those beautiful cheekbones of hers, the corners of her mouth until she couldn't stand it and planted one on his lips herself. Tony grinned like an idiot while the nurse scolded him for riling "Miss David" up.

"It's Da-veed." He corrected, the brightness in his eyes never parting from the perfect darkness of hers.

Then they talked. They talked about themselves and laughed about how they first met and about being undercover and her diffusing that bomb in the rafters (to which Tony cheekily added that, yes, it was worth dying over). The stakeout, the pranks, the teasing. Things said here and there that stuck eerily. They talked about Jenny and cried over her. The drinking. The loneliness. The recoil.

Before they knew it, three hours had passed and Ray was standing in the door.

Tony got up without saying anything to Ziva. He knew. He didn't do anything to Ray on his way out aside from a cordial nod. Not that Ray was paying attention to Tony. He went to Ziva instantly, sat in the chair Tony had just occupied. Worry ravaged his features and Ziva tried to smile for his sake. "Hi Ray."

"Ziva.." He was looking at the wounds that weren't hidden. He was clearly distraught over her condition and Ziva hated knowing that she was going to break his heart.

"Thank you for coming, Ray. It means a great deal."

"Of course, Ziva." He nodded, brows sharp in concentration – no doubt trying to process everything. "I wish I could've gotten Strahan myself."

"Do not worry. Gibbs shot him."

"So he's…"

"Yes. Dead."

Ray released a relieved stream of air from tight lips. "How are you?"

"Broken leg, broken arm. A few other external wounds."

The CIA agent frowned again. Ziva answered his questions about Strahan without much elaboration. She didn't want to talk about him just yet. When she'd satisfied his concern about Strahan and her injuries, he found the resolve to bring it up himself.

"You said we needed to talk."

"I did."

Ray's eyes shifted between walls. "Then let's talk."

"There is no easy way…"

The expression Ziva saw when she lifted her eyes to Ray's face told her that he saw where she was going. She sighed. "Look, Ray. I do love you. You have been so good to me and I could not have asked for a better man."

"Then why?" Hurt was all too evident.

"Because it is not meant to be. I know that sounds..trite. But Ray, I know that this is not right. It is not working, and you know that as well as I do."

Ray's turn to sigh. He was quiet for a few torturous moments. "I understand," he said very softly in a sad tone that said he really did understand. "I love you Ziva."

"Ray…" Ziva frowned. Ray patted her hand and ran his fingers down hers. He continued talking. "Look, Ziva. I know..I know how these things go. Yeah, it hurts. But don't worry, okay?" He comforted her with a smile. "If you ever need anything, even just to talk, if you're lonely..give me a call. I can still be a friend."

Ziva nodded. "I'd like that." But she knew in her heart they would probably never speak again. They talked a little longer about little things. Ray wished her well as sweetly as he could, promised he'd call to check up on her. He'd been in town two days before flying back out on assignment. She told him to make the most of his visit. He gave her a peck to the cheek and a smile and he left.

Tony came back in a minute later, and Ziva cried. It was the right thing, and she knew that full well. But it didn't make it any easier. All the while, Tony held her close to his chest as well as he could, whispering sweet nothings and words of affection and kissing the crown of her head until sleep again claimed her.

She could go home in the morning.

* * *

><p><em>And I'm remembering you singing<em>  
><em>And bringin' you to life<em>  
><em>It's raining out the window<em>  
><em>And today it looks like night<em>

_[lyrics by Jaymay]_


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** _Yikes! So sorry for waiting you guys wait over a week. I was majorly mind-blocked and I didn't want to put up something dumb. Of course, it still might be dumb. I'm struggling with going from adrenaline and tension to more..comfortable scenes. I still hope you enjoy it! This is likely the last chapter for this particular story - I may include an epilogue. We'll see. Either way, thank you so much for all of your support and, most of all, for reading. I hope to offer you more NCIS stories in the future. :) If you feel so inclined, you can look at my tumblr (under the name sinnersheart) and find some artwork I did to go with this story. Love y'all._

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><p>Suggested Soundtrack: <em>Broken Wings - Flyleaf<em>

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><p>The sun was unpleasantly glaring. It was one of those horrible, white-bright days that made you squint even with sunglasses. It wasn't particularly hot, but it was certainly annoying. Ziva spent the car ride with her head against the window, eyes shut. Not that she was trying to nap.<p>

"Are you sure you're going to be okay, Ziva?" Tim asked from behind the wheel. His intelligent eyes flickered over to her, masked with concern. "They offered a nurse to stay with you for a reason."

"I am aware, McGee." Ziva replied, not moving or looking up. "I will be fine."

She was just being stubborn. She knew it and everyone else knew it. But Ziva didn't care – she didn't want a stranger in her apartment doing mundane tasks for her. She could handle herself, crippled in pain or not. The hospital made her take a wheelchair, which was stuffed into the trunk. She angled to get crutches. She could at least use one. So Ziva ended up with both.

McGee was quite for a minute. "Yanno, if you need something, I could –"

"I know, McGee." Ziva said with a little smile. Her eyes finally cracked open, focused on her friend. "Thank you."

Tim smiled back with a curt nod. He was such a good friend. They all were, really. More than Mossad had managed to be. Even in the tough times, in the hard conversations, the occasional accusations and in the strains and the lulls and the heartache – they loved her and one another. She loved them. Gibbs, Abby, Ducky, McGee, Tony.

Tony.

Ziva felt what could have only been butterflies when she thought about Tony. It made her feel like a goofy teenager with a crush on the quarterback. She wasn't sure if she liked that feeling, but she certainly liked Tony. He was talking to Gibbs last she saw – likely telling his version of the events of yesterday if he hadn't already. That wasn't something she looked forward to doing – though not as much as she dreaded the inevitable psych evaluation. Oh God.

McGee's car came to a pleasant halt. He parallel parked with expert precision and got out of the vehicle. It took him a minute to get the bulky wheelchair out and properly unfolded from his trunk. Irritating. Grating. Ziva jerked her car door open with her good hand and began shuffling herself out.

"Don't you want to wait for the uh.." McGee started as Ziva stood one wobbling leg, supporting herself against the vehicle. "I do not wish to use the wheelchair, McGee." Grumbled Ziva stubbornly.

"Come on, Ziva. It'll be safer." Tim implored. "Please."

She stood there for a moment, staring at her friend with a tense exasperation. It really would be easier. "Oh, alright." Ziva finally conceded, motioning for McGee to roll the chair to her. She sat in it started to wheel herself forward before McGee could push her. She didn't want to be pushed.

Needless to say, it was a battle getting up to her apartment. At least she never rolled backwards into traffic. "Home sweet home." Tim smiled warmly, borrowing Ziva's key to get it. Once the door was open, he insisted on maneuvering the wheelchair just right to get her in. "You want me to help you get on the couch?"

"No, McGee. I am fine." Insisted Ziva with emphatic hand motions, palm down.

"You sure?"

He was worried. It was painfully obvious. He probably felt like it would make him a bad friend to not offer his help. It was sweet, but Ziva didn't like being helped if she could..well, help it.

"McGee!" she addressed firmly. "I'm fine. You do not need to worry."

He blinked. "..Sorry Ziva."

"It is alright. I know you are concerned. But I am okay, really." She smiled at him. "I have been through worse. And I appreciate all that you are trying to do for me. But right now I would just like to rest."

Tim nodded. "If you need anything – " he started.

"I will call you." Ziva inclined her head in an appreciative nod. "Thank you, McGee."

He brushed Ziva's good hand with his before he left, but he didn't try to stick around, for which Ziva was grateful. She had a lot of thinking to do, and that was better done in solitude. The first thing she did, though, was wheel herself to her bedroom for a change of clothes. It was a struggle. Ziva got a hold of a pair of gray sweats and a dark blue tee. It would do. She pulled Tony's Ohio State Shirt over her head with some difficulty. It had blood on it, to which Ziva frowned. She'd need to wash it before giving back to Tony. In the meantime, she let it sit on her bed. Her bed. God, that sounded good. Though she'd been sleeping near constantly, the idea of being home, snuggled under familiar sheets in blessed solitude was beautifully enticing. Ziva slipped a clean pair of cotton underwear over her legs and up, followed by the pants. They fit comfortably enough over the cast. She was already sick of wearing it, though. Not about to worry with a bra clasp, Ziva donned the soft shirt. It smelled of detergent, which was a blessing. She was tired of smelling like blood and dirt.

Her dark eyes drifted to the shirt on her bed for a moment and Ziva's lips went tense. Tony. A part of her wanted to call him and ask how he was doing. But the other part rebelled and smashed the other part to bits. Ziva flopped back on her bed with an exasperated sigh, followed by a grunt as she unintentionally jarred her arm. It was going to be a rough few months. How was she going to shower? She needed one, which was painfully obvious. The cleanest of clothes would never help her greasy, tangled hair. She felt disgusting. What had it been? Two days?

"Knock knock?" A muffled voice.

To be honest, Ziva had half-expected him to show up. "Come in, Tony." She heard the door swing open, but she didn't move from the bed. A vague, warm scent drifted into the room. Oh God. Ziva felt a wave of nausea – Tony brought pizza. She liked pizza as much as the next American, true, but her stomach flip-flopped at the very notion of putting food in it. Ziva rolled onto her side and swallowed hard to keep from retching. She knew when Tony was standing in the door to her bedroom, even if she wasn't facing that direction.

"Hey.." He started awkwardly. "You okay?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

"Cause, well. You know."

Ziva sighed and refused to say anything more. That question was really grating on her. Rolling back over (and keeping her hurt arm up for safety) she turned her head to face Tony. He'd had a shower and a clean set of clothes. Shaven chin, too. He didn't look as sharp as he would have on a normal day, but he was no less attractive.

"Come on, Da-veed. Be honest with me."

"I have been honest, Tony."

A skeptical stare.

"I am just tired. I have pain killers and I will heal and I am at home." Shrugged Ziva again. "I would call that 'okay'. Why does no one believe me when I say that I am fine?" Her good arm pounded against her mattress for emphasis.

Tony smiled a little, then blew out a breath of air like he was gearing up for something. "I called EJ."

Ziva sat up, acutely aware of how her hair felt matted and tangled at the back of her head. Great.

"We're done." He smiled a bit broader, uncharacteristic of a man who'd just broken up with his girlfriend. Ziva'd barely processed the information before Tony leaned down and had her trapped in a kiss. It startled her a little, but with his hands around her face, his lips capturing hers in barely stifled passion, it was like they were undercover again. They flowed together, merging with perfect transition. Tony pulled back, smiling. "Want to get a bite? I brought pizza."

Before Ziva could disappoint him, Tony had gathered her up in his arms like a bride and was carrying her to the living room. Under non-injured circumstances, Ziva would have fought against it. But as it was, it was a lot easier for her to be carried as opposed to hobbling around.

Tony didn't let his showboating last too long – it hurt his shoulder to carry Ziva, as light as she was. "We've got supreme, pepperoni…" He was excited to eat a meal with her, even if it was out of a cardboard box. He set her down as gently as he could. She balanced with her hand on the countertop near the sink while Tony flipped open the lid to reveal the delicious Italian confection inside. He was in the middle of pulling slices onto a plate when Ziva bent herself over the sink and made a terrible gagging sound. "Ziva!" called Tony, rushing to support her as she threw up into the basin. A hand went to hold her hair back and brace against her forehead. He noticed how her body was shaking with weakness, even from such a small exertion. Thankfully, there was very little emptied from her stomach. After a moment of breathing heavily to regain her composure, Ziva straightened up and wiped her mouth with a dish towel. Tony touched her face and held her close to his chest. But Ziva pulled away after a few seconds – afraid she'd throw up on his shoes instead of in the sink.

"I am sorry, Tony. I am feeling a little nauseous. Could you, ah.." Ziva motioned to the pizza.

"Yeah, sure!" Tony instantly shoved the slices from the plate back into the box, before grabbing the stack of pizza (three boxes was probably overkill, now that he was thinking about it) and shoving them haphazardly into the refrigerator with his apologetic exclamation. He felt awful. He should've known she wouldn't feel like eating. And he brought _pizza_. Greasy, fattening pizza. "Sorry.." he said with a grimace, turning to find Ziva rinsing her mouth out with a glass of water.

"Do not feel bad. It was…thoughtful."

Tony didn't think making her hurl was particularly thoughtful, but such was life. "You feel like eating anything?"

"Not right now, no." Ziva took a swig of water from her glass. Her tongue peaked between her teeth to pull excess moisture from her lips. Tony just watched here. "I did not expect you so soon."

"Just wanted to be with you," He said, smiling softly. "Hope it's not too much. I could go." Tony was half teasing. Ziva knew that and shot him a look.

"If you did that, you would miss me attempting to wash my hair." Ziva ruffled her hair with a crinkled nose. Now that she was up, she might as well try. It was the most immediate irritation. Tony got a wolfish, stunned expression on his face. "In the _sink_, Tony." He looked away with an innocent smile as if to say 'What? I don't know what you're talking about' while Ziva reached to the cabinet under the sink to fish out the spare shampoo she kept there. She fully intended to wash with one hand. Paying no mind to Tony, Ziva slapped the faucet on, briefly letting it rinse the sink before bending over to dunk herself under the warm stream. It felt glorious. A pure blessing.

Tony thought so too, but for different reasons. He stood sentinel, just enjoying the view of Ziva's rear. She looked good in anything, even those sweatpants. Ziva squeezed a glob of shampoo directly onto the back of her head and slammed the bottle down, purposely startling Tony. She knew precisely what was occupying his eyes. "Too distracting, Tony?" Ziva murmured while trying to lather her hair up with one hand. The blood was rushing to her head and it was proving to be nothing short of a challenge.

"Hmm." Tony grinned. "You could say that."

Ziva smirked to herself and began to rinse. "Can you get a towel for me, Tony?" She waited awkwardly, water running over her face and bits of soap managing to barrage her eyes. Ow, ow, ow. She screwed her eyes shut and shook her head under the faucet for one last rinse before shutting it off and manually. A few seconds later, the soft weight of a towel settled on her head. She shuffled it over her hair with one hand, though Tony did have to catch it from sliding off a few times. Ziva straightened up and instantly felt better.

God, she was beautiful. Tony liked her hair messy – tangles drawn over her forehead and curling against her cheeks. Those dark, intelligent eyes of hers. Strong cheek bones and brows. Her hand supported her weight against the light countertops, a sandy faux-granite with flecks of other colors. Tony moved his arm under her shoulder and around her back to help. Ziva didn't say anything, perhaps out of pride. Or embarrassment, he wasn't sure. She had her eyes on the couch, so that's where he got her.

Ziva dug her fingers into the firm, ribbed fabric of her couch and she nodded a small fraction while making eye contact with Tony. He smiled lovingly and joined her on the furniture. "I talked to Gibbs," He said as he plopped down.

"So did I." Ziva said with a faint smile.

"I'm not going to lie – I'm surprised."

"I am also. But.." Ziva jutted her chin to the left in a quick head-tilt. "I am also not."

"What makes you say that?"

Ziva shrugged. "Perhaps it is because you and I already treat one another as more than partners. We have for some time now." She pushed her bottom lip out, then bit it back it.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." He heard his voice in his head, a replay, shouting at Ziva for 'kimbo slicing' through a room of guards against orders. For him. Trying to protect him. Then there was his going off-grid against Rivkin, among small myriads of events.

"Tony," Ziva said, an uncharacteristic hesitation in her tone, "Is this…going to work?" She had drawn her good leg up and set her chin on it.

"I think so, Ziva, yeah." Tony answered honestly, a firm contemplation on his brows. He watched her intensely.

"I just am…hesitant. Not because of you –" she added quickly, "I just have no had the best track record with men and you are very new to serious commitment and I…"

"Want serious commitment." Finished Tony.

"Anything less would fail. And be unfair."

"Ziva," Tony began to expound, first savoring her name on his tongue and the way the 'z' buzzed in the back of his throat. "I've told you..I can't live without you." He smiled again, a constant need to refresh the expression to ease himself. "And I meant it. I was under truth serum, yanno?"

"I cannot picture my life…without you in it, Tony." Ziva uttered. It seemed like she could cry at any second, but she didn't.

"Then this is good. Look, Ziva." Tony said earnestly, "I love you." He shrugged as if there was nothing more he could say, as if it was the only thing he _needed_ to say. "I love you." He reaffirmed, gripping her forearm.

Ziva looked to him, those damp curls of hers twisting over her shoulders. The fabric of her t-shirt was wet where her hair fell. When she spoke, her voice was sweet and soft, like the ring of a tenor toned bell. "I love you too, Tony." A smile curled her petite lips and her eyes glinted behind her thick lashes. She leaned as gently as her body could, hooking her arm under Tony's. She kissed his chin, a tender, giving gesture of affection. Granted, the desire to be more than affectionate was growing. But the wasn't really in the cards with half of her body incapacitated. And that seemed like it was moving too quickly anyway.

Tony craned his neck to reroute her, meeting her kiss with one of his own. Their faces stayed inches away even as those soft pecks dissipated. "It's going to be fine, Ziva. Promise." He planted another one against her mouth, just as giving in its nature as it could be, perhaps the most affectionate kiss he'd ever given. It was a slow burn, simmering with desire that faltered under the noble need to offer love to this woman, the love of sacrifice and dedication that was deeper than lust and far beyond infatuation. The sort of love Tony felt for Ziva. And when he kissed her, she knew.

She knew.

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><p><em>Charming<em>  
><em> Crazy eyes have you<em>  
><em> Are they gray or blue?<em>

_[lyrics by Jaymay]  
><em>


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